


Braids and Broken Bones

by raiyana



Series: The Reader Inserts [21]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, braiding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Imagine knowing the intimacy of hair braiding to Dwarves, so you ask Bilbo to do it, simply to keep it out of your face. But Thorin sees and gets extremely jealous





	Braids and Broken Bones

Braiding with broken fingers wasn’t easy, you realised, feeling like crying by the bank of the small river you had camped beside after the arduous climb down from the Carrock. Looking around yourself – cursing the bloody goblins for your broken bones – everyone was busy, and you knew your hair needed to be braided before it dried, or it would be an unmanageable mess of ringlets floating in a cloud around your face.

“Bilbo!” you called, spotting the Hobbit looking a little worse for wear after his tumble in Goblin Town, but not particularly busy at the moment.

“What’s up, Fari?” he asked, joining you slowly. You held up your hand; Óin had set the bones, and it had been wrapped with a splint made from a broken-off branch and some fabric torn from your own undershirt.

“Would you braid my hair for me?” you asked morosely. “Everyone is busy.” And inappropriate, a small voice in your head said, but Bilbo wasn’t aware of that fact, and no one had to know he was helping you aside from the two of you.

“Sure,” he smiled; Bilbo really was a kind soul you thought, returning the smile. “Though I probably can’t do your usual style.”

“That’s okay, if you make a braid on either side of my head and one down the back it’s good. Just make them as tight as you can.” You gave him a relieved smile when he shrugged, finger-combing the still-wet strands and began to braid. His hands were slightly uncertain at first, but when you didn’t complain about the tugging – his touch was so _gentle_ , you nearly wanted to laugh when he asked if he was hurting you – his confidence grew.

“Burglar!” Thorin growled darkly, making Bilbo jump behind you. “What are you doing?!” Looking back at him, you paled slightly; a bit frightened of the angry look in his otherwise friendly blue eyes.

“Er… braiding Fari’s hair?” Bilbo squeaked, dropping his braid like your hair was a burning brand. Thorin growled again, pushing him away.

“Thorin!” you exclaimed angrily. “I asked him to help me!”

“You should know better!” he growled, gripping your shoulder. “Unless you _want_ him?” he looked like you’d punched him as the words escaped his lips. Bilbo had wisely fled.

“No!” you cried, holding up your bandaged hand; the Goblin mace had broken your three middle fingers and your thumb, making the hand quite useless for anything resembling deftness. Thorin blue eyes softened.

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” he muttered, “but you shouldn’t ask the Hobbit to braid your hair.” The last sentence was clearly a command, making you bristle.

“And who should I ask, then?!” you hissed. “I’ve no family along to help me!” Thorin looked pained for a moment; you wondered if his chest hurt, but forgot about it in the next moment, feeling the tips of his fingers trace one of your riotous curls.

“Me,” he whispered, staring at you.

“Thorin?” you asked, looking up at him. _Did he mean…?_

“Ask me,” he murmured, leaning in close. His blue eyes filled your world.

“Thorin…” you whispered breathily, “would you braid my hair for me?” Feeling brave, your dared to kiss him softly, hidden from the Company by your wild curls. Thorin groaned, returning the kiss fervently.

“Yes,” he growled into your mouth, his fingers rapidly undoing Bilbo’s attempt at braiding. You smiled into the kiss.

“Thank you,” you kissed him again, pulling away slightly when he began to tug at your hair, creating the defining temple braids common to the Line of Durin. You knew your cheeks were on fire – the rest of them had obviously noticed by now, given the utter silence of the group – as Thorin’s hands quickly bound up and tied away all your curls, until you could see easily, see the blue of his eyes as he leaned in to kiss you, tugging on the silver clasp he had pulled from his own temple braid and fastened in your hair. Your reached up with your good hand, cupping his face as you drew him in for a kiss, not even registering the raucous cheering going on around you.


End file.
